Ingrid Betancourt and Her Book

On a recent rainy evening at the Russian Tea Room, Ingrid Betancourt held the attention of a crowd with the story of her capture by Colombian FARC rebels and her six and a half years as a political prisoner, a story that has just been published in her new book, “Even Silence Has an End.” The event, hosted by the Hudson Union Society, was set up as a Q. & A. session with Betancourt, and it opened with the question on everyone’s mind: “Why did you give up a life of comfort and safety to run for president of Colombia?”

Betancourt, who cut an elegant and steely figure in a slim black-and-white sheath and pearls, smiled graciously and replied that she had felt emotionally compelled to leave France and join her compatriots. It was only after she’d been captured, she said, when “the days just began adding up,” that she started to regret her political bid. In response to a question about her captors, Betancourt found herself at a loss for words before finally calling them “sadistic.”

I asked Anne Godoff, the publisher of Penguin Press (which according to the New York Observer, won a bidding war for “Silence” with an offer of one million dollars), about the book. “I wanted it badly,” she told me, and noted the rarity of stories like Betancourt’s: “I mean, she was imprisoned for six years in the jungle. There aren’t many equally brutal circumstances.”

Betancourt returned to France after her release, in July of 2008, and met with publishers a few months later. She was adamant about not using a ghostwriter, and equally determined that her own vision should be realized. Susanna Lea, Betancourt’s agent, told me that “Ingrid wanted to take her time writing a book. She didn’t want to do a fluff book.” She refused to allow her photograph on the book’s cover, and also reserved the right to omit certain details. “She kept a lot of things out,” Lea said. “She’s very compassionate about her fellow captives, and she was hard on herself in the book and didn’t point fingers.”

For publishers, taking on memoirs about harrowing personal experiences is not without its risks. I spoke about the genre with Clive Priddle, the editorial director and vice president of PublicAffairs. He said that sometimes “these books do feel like a bad case of reality television,” and noted the problem of verification: “If anyone’s been through a truly traumatic experience, I think you want to make sure that they’re not confusing fact with fiction.” Still, he said, Betancourt is a thoughtful writer, with “a very good case” for wanting to publish a book.

Dan Simon, the publisher of Seven Stories Press, worries more about why certain traumatic tales get published and others don’t. When we spoke, he told me, “The vetting process in our industry is flawed, so very often the voices that get through don’t get through for the right reason. Voices get through by way of extreme privilege.” A book he recently published, “City of Widows,” a consideration of Iraq written by an average citizen, received very little attention. “What American publishers are often looking for is authentic-sounding voices, not authentic voices.”

Such concerns are far from Betancourt’s mind right now. She’s simply happy to have been able to tell her story. “I haven’t been able to talk about it since I got back,” she said. “I thought it would be easier to have a pen and paper in front of me … to make people understand what I’ve seen.” In the end, her reasons for writing were the same as any writer’s, ex-hostage or otherwise: “I wanted to create a book that would resonate with people’s hearts.”

(Author photograph: Tess Steinkolk.)

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